I wrote this today...

I had spring break in Spain. I feel pretty good about that. Made a pit stop by Gibraltar on the way, which is just about the cutest place you’ve ever seen in your life! Picture someone taking a delightful little British town and plopping it down on this huge rock in the middle of the Mediterranean. There were monkeys and red telephone booths, Mosaic fountains and fish and chips- it’s kind of an opposite twilight zone- something just that weird but instead of being scary in any way at all everything about it is adorable and happy. It was also so nice to be in an place where I could understand everything. Reading a sign that said, “mind the step” was doubly enjoyable because not only was it in English, it was cute British English! Spain was a much needed cultural break. There were toilets, and toilet paper, and soap, and drinking water, and (mom don’t read this) alcohol, and women in full force, and runners, and tank tops, and gorgeous churches, and clean streets, and clean linens, and big ice cream cones. I met up with a high school classmate who was studying in Seville, (crazy, by the way, what a small world this is that two girls from Ames high will just get together for Tapas in Spain) and we were talking about our experiences and cultural differences. I was telling her how great it was that I didn’t get cat called here- that women actually go out in public and it’s normal to wear just about anything. She replied with, “oh yeah, but that happens a lot here too, the Spanish are very forward and men will harass you a lot.” I decided we must not have the same definition of “a lot.” To me it means every time I step out my front door (literally, my next door neighbor is a little boy with an eye patch who snaps at me). So yeah, Spain was a bit more progressive. I didn’t really miss Morocco while I was gone but I was really happy when I came back. The thing that made me the most excited was that I felt again like I was in a country that I could understand the language! Gibraltar was great for a day but in Spain I was stuck with “gracias” as the extent of my Spanish. Coming back to Morocco I realized again just how much better my Arabic is, because I felt like I could communicate! Of course, once I started class I again felt incompetent, but still, it was there for a second- the “I know this!” The whole thing made me think a lot about going back to the U.S. in just over a month, in shah allah. I’m preparing for culture shock extreme, looking forward to a lot of things, but also very said to think of some things not being in my life again for a long time. If anyone speaks or knows someone who wants to talk to me in Arabic, give me a number. Also, I don’t think I will be using silverware for a long time, so if we dine together upon my return, forgive me. I’m also wondering what life will be like when I have more than two shirts to choose from in my wardrobe. I would just like to say, if you happen to look at any pictures of mine- pretend I’m not wearing the same thing every day. Please. Oh Morocco, you are strange but you are home and what will life be like when I return to things like democracy and Target!?!